


More Than Okay

by EvieSmallwood



Series: Lost Moments [5]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: el loves her brother my dudes, it’s sibling bonding time, this family is so pure, three cheers for the hopper-byers clan, will reflects
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-06 10:56:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14055435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvieSmallwood/pseuds/EvieSmallwood
Summary: It’s March 22nd. Will Byers takes a walk.





	More Than Okay

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JSP1386](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JSP1386/gifts).



> This is for Josh, the best royal steward in town 
> 
> -love, ur queen lol

He doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing here.

All Will knows is that the dream was bad. It was one he definitely doesn’t wanna have again ( _all consuming darkness, surrounding, suffocating him; noises that echo for miles—shrill screams and approaching footsteps that felt far too close_ ).

And so instead of lying in his bed, with the sheets he sweated through, and the loud snoring of Hopper in the next room, he’s standing on ice.

The quarry is still, almost like it’s holding its breath for something. The cliff face above him stands out starkly against the night; jagged rocks cutting into a sheen of black velvety sky.

Beneath his feet, snow crunches as he walks. Will goes slow, carefully treading, hugging himself. He doesn’t know what he’s headed toward, exactly. A someplace. Maybe he won’t even find it tonight.

It’s been a long year, he decides, tilting his head back as flakes start to fall once again. They’re feather light, melting as soon as they hit his skin. He can’t feel them through the numbness, but he can appreciate their beauty just the same.

He’s always been so busy focusing on anything but himself. Observation rather than reflection. Like how hair lightens when the sun hits it, going gold or red if the rays shine through, like the warmth can ignite it from so far away. How cheeks look in the winter, red and blotchy, childlike on almost anyone. How some people give half smiles, some people beam like they were born to do it, and some people don’t smile at all.

Will doesn’t like thinking about himself. He doesn’t like thinking about the _problems_ , and the _bad things_ , and the _early days._

He doesn’t like thinking about his father screaming at his mother one room over while Will desperately tried not to hear, colouring obsessively, curling into himself when he’d heard the impact of skin on skin and his mom falling against the wall, grunting in pain. He’d wanted to be brave, then. He’d wanted to be strong, but he couldn’t.

Jonathan was always the strong one. Jonathan stepped up when Lonnie skipped town, started taking care of Will and their mother.

When she shut down for the first time—locking herself away in her room and not speaking for three whole days—Jon hadn’t said anything to Will. He’d walked him to school, waving with a small smile as soon Will’d reach Mike, before going over to Hawkins Middle. He’d make breakfast and coax their mom into eating and lie when Will inquired, just once, as to what was wrong. _She’s sick, Will. She’ll get better, it’s okay._

And she had. Things _were_ pretty okay for a while. Sure, Lonnie would call. Sometimes he’d show up drunk until Hopper arrived to get rid of him. Their mom would have moments where things got too much and she’d start breathing a little too fast—but it was okay. They were there for each other.

They had their dinged up house and their off brand cereal and Will had his friends. He had Dungeons and Dragons, arcade games, and undying support.

With Mike, on that swing set, all those years ago, he’d been astounded anyone would actually come up to him. Who would wanna be his friend? Tiny Will Byers who showed up to the first day of class and cried when his mom left him.

_“Do you wanna be my friend?”_

That was the start of everything. Saying yes. Mike sitting beside them. Will kicking his feet, trying desperately to beat Mike as they competed to see who could swing the highest.

Things were okay, until they weren’t. Until everything went to shit. He can barely remember it, these days. He remembers, of course, holding the gun. He remembers the way it felt—unnaturally cold, almost piercing his bones with a chill. He remembers being so scared, so alone again. He’d been so sure he’d had people to rely on, but where were they when he needed them most? 

“Will?”

He turns around, and there she is. All bundled up in Hop’s coat, breath foggy, curls sticking out from underneath her hat.

“Hey, El.”

He’s always finding him when he’s coldest. She seems to know when his heart is most longing for someone.

El always saves him just in time.

She wraps her arms around him when she gets close enough. His sister, warm and smelling like jasmine. Just like mom. She’s so familiar. He can’t believe he got so lucky with El.

(he recalls so suddenly and vividly the time they’d first met; when he’d practically fallen against her, the way she’d opened her arms to him—she’d smelt like jasmine, then, too; from his mom’s soap that she’d borrowed—and they’d cried together. he’d thanked her for saving him, she’d thanked him for doing the same, and he thinks he understands that, now; he’s her home the same way she’s his. they’re beacons to one another, giving light and drawing strength. with el, he can be strong. with el, he can feel safe.) 

“What’re you doing out here?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs. “Figured I’d revisit the site of my death today. Seemed fitting, y’know?”

“That was super morbid,” El tells him bluntly. Then her lips curl up into a small smile. “You’re not gonna start wearing dark clothes and going to poetry readings, right?”

“New year, new me,” he jokes.

El giggles. She buries her nose against his neck, sending a chill down his spine. “Are you okay?”

“More than okay.”

They stand there on the frozen over lake, buried within layers of flannel and fleece. The bobble of her hat brushes his cheek and snow falls softly upon them.

Will draws away from her embrace, smiling, because he really is happy. He thinks, maybe, after all this time he’s actually found home.

Only home was never a place, it’s just people. Figured grounding him, like planetary poles. He knows where he stands with them.

El grins back. “Happy birthday, Will.”

“Thanks, sis.” Will squeezes her hand, palm cold in his own, and probably just as numb—god, they really should have brought gloves.

El leans her head against his shoulder, and they clutch one another, the way they always sort of have. Needing something and finding it in the other. Needing a saviour, a friend, a sibling.

“We should get back to the house?”

Will shakes his head. “Screw that. Let’s go get coffee at Benny’s.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hey dudes! I have no idea what the hell this was and I’m super aware it’s NOT another chapter of my mileven series! But! It was one in the morning and I was doing some reflecting of my own, saw an old headcanon (literally from like last fucking year) and the next thing I knew I was writing this.
> 
> Happy birthday to my baby bean boy Will Byers.


End file.
